Walk-in clinic
by Anonymous.Fragger
Summary: Perceptor walks in on Ratchet doing something personal. Ratchet encourages him to join. PWP, Ratchet/Perceptor, IDW based, Frotting, sticky, slight dirty talk. Birthday present for my darling Choi!


Perceptor paused just before he entered the med bay. What was this? There was strange sounds coming from within Ratchet's office. The scientist frowned, slipping into the med bay and moving toward the ajar door of the CMO's workspace. Ratchet sounded as though he were in pain. Was he injured? Was someone harming him? Frame growing tense, the mech's optic narrowed dangerously. Setting down his datapads onto a nearby counter, he slipped up beside the door, peering inside.

Ratchet sat at his desk, his optics dark, his frame splayed out in a relaxed post in his chair. "Primus," Perceptor hear him utter, but his processor had gone blank when his gaze traveled downwards. The medic had one bright crimson palm wrapped around his sizable cable, stroking it firmly. His other hand was curled against the desk, clenching is optics halved and his intakes coming out in ragged gasps.

Perceptor's frame trembled, he was captivated by the sight of that dark, luminescent cable disappeared within the skilled fingers of the medic, only to push through them a moment later. His involuntarily licked his lips when a deft thumb slid over the leaking head. He was so very entranced by the sight, his plating heating up rapidly and his own dark hand reaching to clasp his pelvic plating, that he nearly whined when Ratchet's attention to his own cable stopped. He opened his mouth, struggling back a keen, only to let out a weak cry when Ratchet _spoke._

"Enjoying the show?" Ratchet's optics had tilted up, becoming bright as he met Perceptor's.

"I—I'm _sorry,_ Ratchet, I'll just-" Perceptor babbled, his entire frame flushed in mortified humiliation.

"Don't you _dare._ Get in here and close the door." Ratchet growled, extending his slick hen toward the bright red mech.

"I—" The mech shuddered, but found himself entering, his trembling hand on the door, pulling it closed with a faint _click_. He stood there, optic wide and mouth slightly open, watching the older mech across from him. With a single gesture from Ratchet, Perceptor's frame was right beside him, being roughly pulled into his lap.

The scientist made a weak noise, his frame utterly flush as he felt Ratchet grind his hips up into him, that slick, firm cord grinding against his heated armor. Ratchet chuckled, cupping the scalding pelvic plating in his palm and rubbing his thumb across it, watching the mech above him start to tremble and shake. "Open up for me, woudja?"

"R-Ratchet, this is _most_ unprofessional—" Perceptor began, but he was silences with a crushing kiss. He mewled and wriggled, but was soon subdued by a few expert swipes of the mech's tongue. The sniper shuddered and sank against the medic, his hands resting on either side of his helm.

They broke apart with a weak mewl and a throaty groan respectively, and Ratchet hooked one arm around Perceptor's waist. During their kissing, the scientist's plating had retracted. The CMO grinned wickedly, reaching down to gingerly run his skilled fingers over the already leaking length. "Ah—" Perceptor hunched over the larger mech, letting out weak little noises as he was toyed with.

But, if anything, Perceptor was a fast learner. Shuddering hard, he reached down and coiled his fingers around Ratchet's own pulsing, heated length, pumping it in time with the medic's attentions. "Primus," They both hissed together, savoring each other's touch. Ratchet bucked his hips up, moving his hand a little quicker, nosing into Perceptor's neck with a thick moan.

"That's it—" Ratchet broke off with a moan as he felt the dark thumb of his ally slide over the head of his cable. He treated him in same, earning a sharp gasp. Ratchet turned his helm to catch Perceptor in another kiss, and the two shared low mewls and breathy growls as they continued to work one another over. The medic let out a low hiss when Perceptor's other hand joined in, both soon circled around him and pumping with a wanton need.

"C'mere," The CMO grunted, grasping the mech's hands in one of his own, while jerking him forward with his other. Hearing the collected mech _moan_ with such abandon as their aroused cables slid together was nearly enough to set him off. Kissing him again, he lead the scientist's hands back to their need, wrapping one of his large crimson hands around both lengths, unable to circle completely around. He stroked gently, smoothly along the base, waiting for Perceptor to take over the rest.

No longer worried or afraid, the red mech let out a heavy moan, wrapping both of his hands around their thick cords, letting out a heavy groan as he did. "Primus!" He cried out, bucking his hips up against his own pumping hands, his expression that of distant bliss. His mouth dropped open as he rutted lustily into the clenching heat of his fingers, his one optic almost entire close, while his monocle flickered repeatedly. Ratchet leaned back in his chair to watch, still working the bases of their cables languidly.

"Primus, _Ratchet,_" Perceptor half-sobbed, feeling his lust starting to take over his reason.

"That's it… Loose yourself," The older mech growled, his expression becoming taunt but pleased as he watched the gorgeous mech in his lap writhe, buck and swoon over the pleasure. Nipping at his lower lip, he watched as Perceptor extended his glossa out automatically, clearly expecting to tangle with his lover's. His face gained the features of a mech tortured as he neared his overload, his mouth open and his tongue lashing out against his lower lip.

More than content to watch and enjoy the near painfully erotic show, Ratchet hissed when he felt Perceptor's grasp become slightly tighter; he was getting close. He bucked his own red hips, sliding his cable against the frantic thrusts of the scientist; earning him the most gorgeous sound yet. A mix between a moan, a mewl, a sob and a whimper. He had to hear that again. He repeated his motion, watching as Perceptor jerked in his lap, making another _stunning_ vocalization.

Having completely lost himself to the heat, Perceptor could only stare blankly ahead, mewling and gasping out his lover's name whenever he got a particular jolt from their conjoined attention. He let out a weak sob when he heard Ratchet breathily and passionately gasp his designation. He pushed forward to kiss him, his hips rocking in a rhythm that threatened to send hem toppling out of the chair, but Ratchet kept them stable with his free hand on the desk.

"Overload for me, Perceptor," Ratchet uttered in a low, heated tone. He snarled out against the mech's mouth, kissing him hard while rocking upwards in tandem with the near hysterical thrusts of the smaller mech.

"Ah-h- R—Ra—_Ratchet,_ I— _Primus,_ I'm going to—"

"_Overload, Perceptor!_" Ratchet moaned, his voice not an order but a plea. The medic watched with lustful rapture as the red mech's face contorted to almost look like pain, and his form began writhe and buck with wanton need. The strangled cry and hysterical mantra of his name that Perceptor screamed as he overloaded, threw Ratchet over the teetering edge of his own.

With a tense snarl, Ratchet's own fluids mixed with the copious amount that Perceptor was painting across both of their plating. The orgasm rocketed over their frames, causing the scientist to see white and the medic to nearly loose his grasp on reality.

Once it was over, Perceptor's form slumped and fell against Ratchet's chest, both of them heaving. Sore hand moving from the desk, which had deep dents in it, the CMO reached up to pet down the trembling, panting form in his lap. He held his lover closer, nosing his audio before kissing at his cheek with a low, loving rumble.

"Th—thank you," Perceptor finally muttered, tilting his helm up. He opened his mouth to say more, only to be silenced by a tender, gentle kiss. His optic flickered and became liquid-like in the intensitity of the expression, before closing. He lifted his arms to loop them around Ratchet's neck and hold himself close, savoring the emotions that swelled through him.

When they broke apart, they stared at one another for the longest time. "I—I should—"

"Stay." Ratchet murmured, petting at the sniper's cheek and pulling him in for another loving connection.

"R—right… Yes." Perceptor mumbled against his lips, his still heated form relaxing. Ratchet was not at all objected to sleeping this way, in fact he rather insisted on it. Coiling his white arms around the mech, the CMO settled, watching as Perceptor nuzzled into his collar to fall slowly into recharge himself. He watched the smaller mech for a few minutes, before finally drifting off, his grasp becoming marginally tighter as he slipped into a comfortable sleep.


End file.
